"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. And she had not dressed herself in this habit of a blue so much like the sky just for his sake, no matter that Lucy had said how much this colour suited with her eyes. ‘He could have little comfort there, indeed. ’ She closed her mind on the possibility of finding out, and went on, ‘But me, I have been in a war, and I have won.
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